I guess I’ve always been a bit of a worry wart. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it” is truly the phrase that rings most often in my head when I think of my mother.
There’s bones in the graveyard
There’s villain in my head
This dark path makes me breathe hard
Little eyes are beamin’ red
What if we don’t make it?
What if we can’t take it anymore?
The Screech of a barn owl
Hair is standing up on end
Stench and it’s so fowl
with fear I cannot comprehend
What if we don’t make it?
What if we can’t take it anymore?
We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,
My momma always said
We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,
Don’t let it get to your head
What did I just stumble over–
Will there be more of that ahead?
Something just brushed against my pants leg
I wish that I were home in bed!
What if we don’t make it?
What if we can’t take it anymore?
We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,
My momma always said
We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,
Don’t let it get to your head
We cannot add more minutes
We cannot add more life
Let’s not replace what’s in it
With agony and strife
Words and Music: Holly Kirsten April 2020